


On The River Of Time

by deerna



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Made up/liberally interpreted philosophy, Post Blackwatch, Pre-Recall, mention of trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 18:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12965484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerna/pseuds/deerna
Summary: Zenyatta attempts to connect with his student by teaching him something about rivers, life, and his own past.Genji never disobeyed, but he often questioned him; he seemed to have a hard time with seeing things for what they were, enjoying them for what they were. He was never disrespectful, but he was often cold and standoffish. He hid his pain, sharing his feelings only when Zenyatta, as his master, demanded him to do it- never out of the need to get off things off his chest.





	On The River Of Time

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the challenge Scavengers Hunt at Landedifandom for the prompt #02:  
> 
> 
> In riva al fiume/ _On the river bank_  
>  Circoli/ _Circles_

Even surrounded by the city, the river was beautiful. A quiet vein among noisy arteries. 

Zenyatta quietly contemplated the water rushing beneath the bridge they were standing on; there was something intrinsically powerful about water, in its way to bring both life and death to all organic and inorganic forms of life. It was useful and dangerous, needed and feared. 

“Is there a reason you brought me here?” Genji asked, not quite successful in hiding his annoyance, though he was still obediently folded in the lotus position on the bridge’s railing, looking upon the flowing water like Zenyatta had instructed him to do a few moments earlier. 

“Don’t you like it? I thought you were tired of looking upon snow and mountain peaks.”

“I’m- it’s a _river_ ,” Genji muttered.

“Excellent observation,” Zenyatta interrupted him, the praise only slightly laced with condescension. “And what is it that, which makes of a river a river?”

“I thought we were going to meet Mondatta after his speech at the Sorbonne,” Genji replied, ignoring the question. “That was supposed to be _hours_ ago. Why do we keep taking detours? Why do we keep _stopping_?”

“My brother has speeches scheduled for a few days, still. I thought we could walk around a bit, observe the city. Have you been in Paris before?”

Genji shrugged, gracefully standing up and stepping down the railing. “Once, when I was young,” he admitted, voice quiet. “Father had to meet someone- I don’t recall much. We went to some museum, I think.” 

“Did you like it?”

“Does it matter?” Genji whispered, almost to himself, before continuing with his normal tone. “No, it was boring. I was too young to appreciate something like that, I guess.” He paused. “I’m not sure I’d like it any better now, to be honest.”

Zenyatta chuckled. “If you are worried I’m bringing you to a museum next, don’t be. I was just curious.” 

Genji scoffed. “You’re _curious_ about the strangest things.” 

Zenyatta sighed, letting his orbs chime to soothe himself. He certainly didn’t think that being a teacher to someone who hurt as much as Genji was going to be easy; on the other hand, since Genji had willingly put himself in his care, Zenyatta didn’t think he would’ve fought him every step of the way. 

Genji never disobeyed, but he often questioned him; he seemed to have a hard time with seeing things for what they were, _enjoying_ them for what they were. He was never disrespectful, but he was often cold and standoffish. He hid his pain, sharing his feelings only when Zenyatta, as his master, demanded him to do it- never out of the need to get off things off his chest.

He wondered what he had done wrong to cause his student not to trust him.

The water kept flowing, undisturbed by Zenyatta’s disappointment in himself. “We both step and do not step in the same rivers. We are, and we are not,” he quoted, looking at it. 

“I’m growing tired of this nonsense,” Genji growled low in his synthetic voicebox. “We do or we don’t? We are or we aren’t? Which is it?”

“It is both, and neither,” Zenyatta started, but soon interrupted himself. A more pragmatic approach was maybe in order. 

“When the Shambali were just a young group of even younger omnics just starting out their lives in a brand new world, Mondatta brought us to visit the museums, too. We were in Paris to- well. I think Mondatta meant to show us how humans lived, the amazing things they had achieved during the centuries- I think he meant to show us what he hoped we were going to be a part of.” He sighed. “In reality, we were here to be gawked at by curious humans who did not think that omnics could have a spiritual awakening.” 

Genji’s visor flickered in the corner of Zenyatta’s visual feed. He was listening. 

“We didn’t see much of the city. It was one of the first times I got into a fight with Mondatta,” Zenyatta continued, reminiscing fondly. “I did not understand why we had come all this way just to hop from a hotel room to the other, to see cracked paintings hanging from walls, to be around people that didn’t believe us. I really disliked humans, back then.”

“You? _You_ disliked humans?” Genji blurted, genuine surprise coloring his voice. 

Curiosity: such a good thing to hear from him, who seemed just content to follow whatever Zenyatta told him to do, never taking the initiative. It was really good to hear him projected toward something, even though it was just a younger Zenyatta’s silly grudges. 

“A spiritual awakening is the beginning of a journey,” the omnic reminded him, gently. “Even now, I’m still learning about myself and about the world. I had even more to learn back then. I was young and confused and I had finally won my right to stay outside, to watch the birds and the trees- to experience life. I was very opposed to staying in a room, answering rude questions about the authenticity of my capability to feel.” 

“I cannot imagine you... restless,” Genji admitted, fully turning towards Zenyatta and leaning with a hip against the railing. “I’ve never known you but calm and collected.” 

“Restless is a very _kind_ word to describe myself from back then,” Zenyatta admitted, feeling the grasp on his orbs grow weaker for a moment as his systems got flooded by embarrassment. “I was reckless, stubborn. You could say I had issues with authority.”

Genji _snorted_. “Forgive me, but that has changed how?” he sassed the omnic. 

Zenyatta couldn’t help but burst into a surprised fit of giggles. “Oh my. That’s rude,” he scolded him, but he was still laughing, unable to keep it from bursting from his voice box. 

“It doesn’t make it less true,” Genji defended himself, but he didn’t sound apologetic in the least. “Standing up the most respected and powerful spiritual guide of your community of reference just because you find the river more interesting than him- That sounds like the type of behaviour that I would expect from someone who is reckless and stubborn, and who has issues with perceived authority- although _milder_ than it could be.”

It was _delightful_. Zenyatta really felt like he was onto something, finally creating something resembling a bond with his student. What was a little dignity, in exchange of enlightenment?

“You may have a point,” he conceded. “But giving grief to my brother by skipping his carefully scheduled appointments is much less disruptive than a young omnic yelling at full volume exactly what he thought of his speeches, in the middle of a very quiet museum.”

Genji _gasped_. “Did you really do that?”

“I slammed the door on my way out, and I ran,” Zenyatta confirmed. It hadn’t been his best moment. Embarrassment was cooking his lower processor, but that’s what the ventilation system had been made for. “I walked around the city until I couldn’t move anymore- turns out that walking takes up more energy than floating,” he commented, amused at his own younger self antics. “I needed to recharge. It was a very nice day, in the middle of summer, with lots of tourists milling around on the sunny streets.

“I found a spot by the river and I sat down- planning to stow in my own feelings of rage and righteousness, I imagine.” He could almost picture himself, sitting on the railing much like they had been doing a few moments earlier, mulishly staring at the water. “I couldn’t. Since the moment I learned to look at the things that I had before my eyes, I loved rivers. So I picked a spot, satisfying the urge I had to fill my soul with something I could really enjoy, and the water washed away my frustration and my disappointment. I was still mad, but it was a distant thing, something in the back of my mind. I was at peace for myself, for a moment.”

Genji was quiet for a moment. “So, you found harmony in the river?”

“In a way. But that’s not really the reason I wanted to show you this place.” 

“Ok, so what the river has to do with anything?”

Zenyatta sent his orbs spinning with a chime. They _were_ going somewhere with this. “What is it, that makes a river a river?”

Genji groaned. “I thought you had finally stopped with riddles.”

“Fine,” Zenyatta laughed. He had to try. “The river’s water never stops. It’s always changing. When we step into its water, it’s not the same water we stepped in a few moments ago.” He gestured at the water, and at the river at large. “We are like the river- or maybe _life_ is like the river. Life flows through us, and we change. But there’s something else about rivers.”

Zenyatta turned to look at Genji, who sighed, defeated. “I’ll bite. What?”

“They don’t change. They may move their course sometimes, and they may be larger or smaller with the changing seasons, but nobody stops calling them rivers just because of that. This river was named by humans; it is littered with bridges that let people cross it, and it is full of boats and fish- none of these things make it less of a river.”

“A river doesn’t change with the water that flows through it,” Genji muttered.

“We’re bound to change, but no matter what those changes are, we can’t help but be ourselves.” Zenyatta floated closer, lowering his voice. “We just need to be like the river, and accepting change for what it is- make it a part of us.” 

“What if the change is too drastic,” Genji asked, a sudden crack in his usually terse tone. “What if we weren’t meant to live through that?”

Zenyatta didn’t know what kind of traumatic accident Genji had survived through, but every time he recalled it, the pain in his soul was so sharp that the omnic almost couldn’t stop himself from gasping. This time too he did his best to push his processes to work through it, letting the intense feeling flow until he could collect himself enough to formulate an answer.

“A river exists as long as there’s water in it,” he said, gently. He reached out with a hand, uncertain if Genji would’ve allowed the contact, but his student didn’t even flinch when Zenyatta touched him. “Maybe you weren’t meant to survive- but you did.”

“At what cost, though?” Genji murmured. 

Zenyatta wasn’t sure he was meant to hear that. “Maybe it’s heartless on my part, but it doesn’t matter,” he answered, still. “The past is in the past. It may come to haunt you in your dreams and in your mind, but it cannot be changed.”

“Water under the bridge,” Genji said, a short, mirthless bark of laughter punctuating the sentence. “I don’t have anything to my name but my past. What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you want. If you stay in your past, you’re walking in circle, rehashing your trauma and your pain over and over. Whatever happened to you, it hurt your soul as much as your body.” Zenyatta almost regretted saying that when he saw Genji tense up, but he didn’t take it back. “I also know that, even though it’s buried deep, you still believe that you can move on.”

“I’m tired,” Genji admitted. “And I’m scared. I don’t know how to do this.”

That was the most sincere emotion that Genji had gifted him. 

“The path to the sea is a long one. Let me show you the way.” Zenyatta offered his hand.

Genji took it. “Yes, Master.” 

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
>   
> 


End file.
